There For You
by MarauderishMischiefMaker
Summary: Mild mannered Arthur Weasley witnesses the abuse of five-year-old Harry and takes him back to The Burrow. He meets Remus Lupin, and both of their lives are turned upside down. Child!Abused!Powerful! Harry, Assertive!Remus TBD! Dumbledore
1. The Outing

Chapter One: The Outing

"What do you suggest we do with him?"

"How should I know? He's your blasted nephew, Petunia!" Another argument.

Both Vernon and Petunia Dursley loved to complain about everything under the sun so this was more than normal occurrence at Number Four Privet Drive. So normal in fact that the Dursleys' young son Dudley only averted his eyes from the television screen to turn up the volume on his show. None of the three gave a thought to the little boy washing supper dishes a few rooms away, leaving Harry Potter the Dursleys' five-year-old nephew and ward in the perfect position to eavesdrop.

What Harry could gather between the roaring television and his cousin's noisy snacking was that one of Aunt Marge's dogs had littered the night before and she absolutely refused to leave her precious darlings in order to babysit Harry. This suited Harry just fine because Marge (who was not his biological aunt at all) was a horrible woman. The Dursleys on the other hand were in quite a predicament, they knew of no other places to unload the Potter brat while they took Dudley and his little friends to the carnival

"What about that Figg woman?" shouted Uncle Vernon in a burst of inspiration, "she could watch the boy!"

"She can," Aunt Petunia agreed. "But the old bat won't. Not after what happened last time!"

Harry distinctly remembered 'last time'. He swore—even after a severe beating from Uncle Vernon—that he had only been rifling through the drawers for a bit of parchment to draw on. Instead, he found a crumpled old envelope. It was a letter from someone named Kwikspell informing Mrs. Figg that the program they created was not designed to aid people called Squibs. Harry, who had only begun to read a few months prior, inquired about the strange sounding words and was told crossly "children were to be seen, not heard."

"Quite right," grumbled Uncle Vernon in agreement. "Although I thought she knew the boy was a gibberish-muttering freak. I suppose he'll have to come along then."

Harry's little heart leaped at this unexpected good fortune. For the first time in his miserable life on Number Four Privet Drive, Harry had reason to hope that Dudley's birthday held more promise than the beating he always endured.

Dudley tried valiantly to change his parents' minds. He'd screamed, hit his father upside the head and had even gone so far as to kick a hole through the television screen but for once his toddler-like tantrums made no apparent difference.

The next morning, breakfast, which was usually filled by Dudley's whining and Vernon's boisterous complaints, was a quiet and sulky affair. Harry was too excited to enjoy the refreshing quiet. Instead, he shoveled down his porridge and gazed around the table certain an order was coming his way.

"What on earth are you staring at?" asked Aunt Petunia when she caught his eye. "If you're coming along you'd best get dressed. In proper clothes, mind you! I won't going out in public with a ragamuffin."

"But the dishes," Harry protested.

"I will clear them today," Petunia sighed. Here she was trying to do something nice and the child was giving her cheek.

_Too good to be true!_

"Where are your manners?" hissed Uncle Vernon, as the boy jumped lightly from his chair.

"Thank you, auntie," responded Harry before running off.

Neither of Harry's guardians had improved their mood by the time he squeezed into the back seat of the family car. "Stop that fidgeting boy!" Uncle Vernon ordered, looking at him in his rearview mirror. "Can't you sit properly?"

"I'm trying to see the first carnival tents," Harry explained from his seat between his cousin and some of Dudley's equally massive friends.

"You'll see them soon enough!" he grumbled, and a few minutes later announced their arrival.

" Oi! Out of the way, Scar Head!" Dudley shouted. He shoved Harry forward causing the boy to overbalance, and tumble headlong out of the car.

Harry quickly righted himself, staring in amazement. Everywhere he looked there was attraction: a tall wheel that went round and round high above the rest of the festivities dominated one corner, a glowing carousel the other. Lining the middle, there were several game booths each with proprietors who had to advertise using bullhorns and megaphones to be heard over the excited din.

"Have you ever been to the carnival before? " laughed a lady vendor who gave each boy (including Harry because Vernon couldn't get him away fast enough) a towering cotton candy. Harry had never seen anything so good in his life and had difficulty not shoveling it all in his mouth at once. The vendor frowned at his starved, thin appearance.

"We're going on rides now!" said Dudley pulling his mother away from the stand.

""Which ones, darling?" Aunt Petunia simpered.

"The tilt-a-whirl!" shouted Harry, his tongue already an electric blue color.

"Mummy," Dudley whined. "You said if I let him come, I could pick all the rides I wanted! You promised not to let him ruin my birthday!"

"Hush, darling," said Aunt Petunia before shooting Harry a withering look. "You don't qualify for the minimum height, and anyway this isn't your outing is it? _Is it Harry?"_

"No," the boy muttered his stomach tightening, as Dudley shot him a triumphant grin.

"And you remember that! See how Mummy handled him darling? All better now?"

Dudley screwed up his face again, and forced a sniff. "I s—suppose so."

"Why don't we go on the carousel?" his mother suggested. "Mummy will take your picture riding a pretty horse. Come, Harry."

Realizing he was already in enough trouble, the first grader followed obediently. He knew his aunt was right of course, what rides would they let him on when he stood as tall as they average four-year-old? On his tiptoes.

An entire roll of film later, Dudley dropped what had become a rather fixed smile, declaring that the ride had become overrun with younger children. Uncle Vernon made a big show of negotiating with (or rather yelling at) the frightened ride operator, and Harry was able to slip away from the Dursleys unnoticed. A trio of rather tall boys was holding up the line for the last booth. It was a leather thing that Harry assumed people sat on although he couldn't see why

"This is where size comes in handy," he decided as he weaved through legs. Soon he was close enough to hear what the boys were saying.

"You're going to get us in trouble, you know," said the smallest one.

"About as old as Dudley," Harry thought to himself but that's where the contrast ended, for while his cousin was quite wide, this boy was lean, as though he had been stretched out.

His companions (and brothers from the looks of it) laughed. "Why? We aren't doing anything wrong," said one.

"Trying to see how the Muggles work this thing is all," agreed the other. Harry wanted to ask what "Muggles" were, but if these boys were the smallest bit like his relatives they would hate being asked questions.

" Fred, Percy's going to see you."

"Come on, Ron, he's Percy, not the Minister!"

"Fine, I'll just tell Mother then," threatened a cool voice. This Percy had his chest puffed out importantly reminding Harry of a ten-year-old gorilla.

"You wouldn't really—er—would you son?" stammered their father. "Don't want your mother knowing I went to a Muggle funfair, let alone that I took you lot with me."

There's that word again thought Harry. He was about to make his presence known to the family when Percy bent down. A small girl had pulled on his robes. What strange robes they were, too.

"What've you go here, Ginny?" Percy asked, in a kinder voice than he had used previously.

She shook her head, giggling and put another piece into her mouth. "I don't know what it's called," their father replied. "But I paid for it with _their_ money." He seemed to think this was quite clever, and his kind laugh put Harry at ease.

"Would you like some cotton candy for a bit of your popcorn," he asked quietly.

"So this is 'popcorn' is it," the balding man asked stroking his chin. "Interesting."

Harry looked puzzled but nodded. "And this is cotton candy," he held it to the girl who looked at it nervously. "Eat it, it turns your tongue blue, see?" Harry stuck his out and wagged it, but soon felt a sharp tug on his collar.

"There you are…your and aunt and I…looking all over this place!" snarled Uncle Vernon, although Harry somewhat doubting the Dursleys had looked for him at all. Catching a glimpse of the family, Vernon rolled his eyes thinking they must be carnival folk, and continued to rage at Harry "When I get through with you more than tongue of yours is going to be blue. Perhaps I may even add a few other colors as well, are we clear boy?"

The balding man cleared his throat. "Excuse me," he said, trying to keep the anger out of his voice. "I didn't catch your nephew's name, but I'm quite sure it is not 'Boy'!"

Uncle Vernon looked like a deer caught in the headlights but quickly composed himself. "I see, and what would your name be?"

"Arthur Weasley!" the man replied.

"Ahem…well Mr. Weebleby

"_Weas_ley," corrected Arthur coldly. "And might I suggest you look after your own son?"

Mr. Weasley's arm made the slightest flick and Harry distinctly heard a neigh. There was a scream, which could only belong to Aunt Petunia as Dudley's carousel horse—now quite alive began to gallop away—with him on it!

Uncle Vernon howled, while the Weasley boys screamed with laughter. Even Harry managed a small smile

"Thank you, sir," he whispered.

He smiled sadly. "Don't mention it. Now I don't believe I ever did catch your name, son?"

"It's Harry. Harry Potter."


	2. A Chat At The Burrow

Chapter Two: A Chat At The Burrow

"Are you really—?"

"Do you have the—?"

"Boys!" Arthur gave the twins a sharp look.

"I better get back," Harry murmured. "With Uncle Vernon this mad, I'll be in my cup…I mean in trouble for a long time. " The mere thought made him shiver.

"Merlin's beard," whispered Arthur. He was sure—however quickly corrected—that Harry had referenced a cupboard, and that simply wouldn't do! He would have to have a word or two with Dumbledore but until then—

"How long have you lived with them?" Percy Weasley's voice brought Arthur out of his thoughts

"Long as I can remember," Harry replied. "Ever since my parents had that car crash when I was a baby."

_A car crash__!" fumed Arthur inwardly__." Cheapening the sacrifice Lily and James Potter had made for their child! It was absolutely_ _preposterous!_

He sighed, once again finding it difficult to keep his voice even "No, Harry. If anyone ought to be in trouble, it is your aunt and uncle." To put Harry in the care of relatives who hated him…

Percy grimaced too. Like every child his age, he had heard the story of how Harry Potter had conquered the Dark Lord. "The first curse I learn at school…"

"I know, son," Arthur hummed. The thought of sending a curse or two the Muggles way had not crossed his mind unconsidered, although he was sure Molly would have his wand.

Harry ears prickled in interest, grateful the subject had turned from his life. "Do you go to school?"

"I'll be heading to Hogwarts next year." Percy said proudly.

"What's Hog…?" Harry inquired, but trailed off. Vernon Dursley was approaching, this time there was an unconscious Dudley in his arms.

Harry's heart pounded in his ears. This was it! He was going to be locked in the cupboard for the rest of his natural born life (which would be a very long time.) As for continuing his education, Harry supposed he could read all the books Dudley had never touched, and watch public television while his relatives were out—

Several voices came to his ears at one.

"Daddy," little Ginny squealed burrowing her head in George's robes.

"What are we going to do?" yelled Ron.

"_Accio flowerpot!" _bellowed Mr. Weasley, waving a strange stick in the air.

Harry looked on stunned, as a nearby plant zoomed toward them landing at the older man's feet. It would've been rather incredible if he weren't so frightened.

"Please, don't let him get me!"

"He won't," said Arthur. " Now, Harry I need you to hold on tightly to this plant. Right, just like Ron is doing. Very good. _Portus!"_

A second later, Harry felt his feet leave the ground. It was a weird sensation, like being reeled in by a fishing line as he fell from the sky. They landed with seven soft thuds that—Harry realized as his stomach did a somersault—were the only noises in the room apart from the tapping of a woman's boot. Said woman was now glaring at each redhead in turn, including her husband.

"I didn't want to go, Mother," Percy insisted, as her gaze fell on him, "but someone had to be the _good_ influence on Ron and Ginny."

All retorts died on Molly Weasley's lips as soon as she locked eyes with Harry.

"Percy," she said. "That rat of yours looks a bit under the weather. After you tend to him you can go play outside with the others."

"Mother," Percy huffed. "Almost ten-year-olds do not play."

"Oh, of course they do. Now, all of you scat! I'd like a word with your father."

"Seems she's not even mad that we went to the Muggle carnival," Ron "whispered" to Fred, whose elbow instantly connected with his little brother's side. "OW! What was that for?"

"Come on, then!" George took his sister by the hand, and began to lead the group away before their mother could change her mind.

Ginny dug her heels. "I want him to come," she said pointed at Harry.

Harry's eyes widened. "You do?" This was quire a strange development. Dudley and his gang usually made certain that he never had any playmates at all.

"Go on, dear," her mother said gently. "Harry will be along in a moment."

The little girl nodded, and allowed herself to be led away by the others. For his part, Harry wished they hadn't left him to be yelled at by the strange woman. He instinctively flattened his bangs, but a lecture (about his untidy hair or otherwise) did not come.

"Dear, are you all right?" she said kindly. "You look ill."

"'M fine," Harry lied. It wasn't anything he eager to repeat soon, but he could never say that. Harry had learned very early in life that a child was better to say little in the company of grownups. Then, as if dreading a slap across the face he added a quick, "ma'am"

"Come sit with me," she said softly. Harry went to the sofa, and tried not to squirm while the she felt his forehead and cheeks with another long stick, After a few seconds she gave a hum of understanding "That was your first trip by Portkey?"

Mr. Weasley nodded for the little boy who was looking down at his hands. "I don't know what that means," he whispered. "Sorry."

"Muggle relatives," Arthur mouthed, when Molly looked utterly confused. Then in a soothing voice he added, "You should never apologize for not knowing something, Harry. It's how you learn."

"Sorry, I mean all right." And here he was thinking all grownups hated being questioned by "buzzing little gnats". These people were not like the Dursleys at all. "I do feel a little queasy," he admitted. "Is that normal when people ride on…um plants?"

What was he talking about? Nothing Harry had done that day was normal, especially not riding on plants, but to his surprise both nodded.

"Perfectly normal, dear especially for your first time. Nothing that can't be fixed." Mrs. Weasley opened her arms for the six-year-old who didn't move an inch. In fact he absolutely grimaced.

"I can, um walk if you'll show me the way."

Mrs. Weasley couldn't keep the surprise out of her features. Even Ron, who had begun to insist that he was quite grown up, submitted to being carried when he was as tired as Harry looked now. She looked at her husband who shrugged in a "we-cant-stand-here-all-day" sort of way, before clearing her throat. "Come along, sweetheart."

Harry obeyed almost robotically, and even permitted Mr. Weasley to help him into a kitchen chair after several attempts to make the jump on his own. "What are those?" he asked his little brow knitting in confusion at an assortment of batteries on the table.

"I was hoping you could tell me actually. I've always been very interested in Muggle contraptions, you see and—"

"Oh, for heaven's sake Arthur," his wife snapped setting a glass of Stomach-Settling Solution in front of Harry who eyed it cautiously. "Drink, dear and pay no attention to Arthur here, you'll find he can be silly sometimes."

"Molly, you fail to realize what an enlightening opportunity for …why, this boy has lived with Muggles for years…he could teach us so…"

Harry made a final disgusted face, as he drained the glass and looked at the adults with curious green eyes. "Fred and George said that word at the fair. What does it…what does it mean."

Molly cleared her throat. "Well, dear, a Muggle is a person like your aunt and uncle who can only read about magic in their storybooks."

"Oh," Harry said with comprehension. "Aunt Petunia buys storybooks for Dudley, shelves full. But he never reads them. And she would never buy him a storybook with magic in it."

"Why not?" Mrs. Weasley gasped.

"Aunt Petunia says magic isn't real, and anyone who thinks it's real is stupid." The way Harry hung his head gave

Arthur a sickening feeling that stupid was a frequently used word in these people's vocabulary, most likely in regards to their nephew. "Your aunt was wrong, Harry. Magic is very real, and not stupid at all. If it were me, Molly, the kids, _you_ and…sweet Merlin half of the people in the world would be considered stupid, and then would be smart.

"Um…the other half," Harry whispered.

Mr. Weasley chuckled. "A different explanation then, Molly?"

"Harry, dear," Mrs. Weasley sighed. "Arthur and I were privileged to know your mummy and daddy."

"Uncle Vernon said Daddy drank a lot, and didn't have a job."

"NOT TRUE AT ALL!" she shrieked, before she could stop herself. "Harry your dad had a job, a very important job. He used his magic to protect people."

"Like the Muggles whose cars have funny lights on top," explained Mr. Weasley. "And your mum was extraordinarily smart. They both loved you very much indeed, and so did all their friends. One of them is your…"

"Mother!" came a frantic call from upstairs.

"Yes, Percy, what is it?" Molly asked when he appeared, a struggling rodent in his hands.

"I let Scabbers take a nap in the sun, but his color's still a bit off."

"Well then!" said Arthur clapping his hands together. "Perhaps the Menagerie has a tonic for him, eh? Don't worry dear," he added when Molly paled. "We have to go anyway for Bill and Charlie's school things. Might as well go now. Do you fancy a shopping trip Harry?"

"Yes, please."


	3. Meeting Moony

It was the waning days of June, and rather too hot to be wearing the sweatshirt and hood that Mrs. Weasley had found for Harry. Mr. Weasley had also tinted the lenses of his glasses to hide his brilliant green irises. Harry wondered if—like Aunt Petunia before them—the Weasleys found the shade of his eyes, his untidy hair, and freakish scar unsettling, but he didn't dare ask, and endured the costume without complaint.

Harry still wasn't sold on the idea of "magic" being real, but how else could one describe the place the Weasley boys called Diagon Alley. After all, there weren't any normal places where _everybody_ wore strange clothes, owls and bats could be found during the day, and women went into stores looking for things like pickled pigs hearts. Not to mention the fact that Mr. Weasley had gotten them all in by using his "wand" to reveal the archway.

"All right, then," said the man in question, clapping his hands together, "Where to first?"

"Flourish and Blotts, I think," Molly replied, "so that Bill and Charlie can get their schoolbooks squared away early for once."

"But, Mum, Scabbers needs some rat tonic." Percy reminded her.

"And we want to see the animals," Fred added. "They're always so…fascinating."

"You just want to poke things through the bars of the owl cages, because you know it drives the shopkeeper mad!" Percy accused. "You two are probably the reason that poor Scabbers is sick in the first place!"

"_Us_?" repeated Fred incredulously.

"What did we do to the little fur ball?" George wanted to know.

"Living with the two of you is stressful for him."

"That's quite enough, you three," said Molly, for the escalating argument was calling unwanted attention to the party, and therefore, to Harry. The child's current disguise was unlikely to hold up under close scrutiny, but due to his mistrust of magic, both Molly and Arthur had been reluctant to do anything else.

"How about we split up?" Arthur suggested. "If you want to go to the Magical Menagerie come with me." Percy, Fred, George, Ron and Ginny grouped off around their father.

Bill knelt down in front of Harry, "And what about you?"

"Well…I…I like to read. I think I'd like to come to the bookshop, please?"

"Come along, dear," Molly beckoned him toward a building with Flourish and peeling gold letters above the doorway.

The shop was rather like the library at St. Gregory's Primary School, with it's narrow aisles, and endless rows of shelves piled with books, except that Flourish and Blotts had a second level that could be accessed by means of a winding black staircase. Harry remembered the school library fondly. It had been one of his favorite places to take shelter from Dudley and his gang, because none of them had learned to read yet. Harry was fairly sure his cousin would gag at the sight of so many books in one place.

And speaking of books…there was something oddly familiar about one of the cover illustrations Standing in front of a very crooked house was a cartoon boy, accompanied by a host of pets: a rat, a tabby, and a large black dog that was drawn as if it was sitting back on its haunches, with its pink tongue lolling happily.

It was the last animal that captured Harry's curiosity, drawing him toward the display on the counter with a strange gravitational pull that was so single-minded, Harry bumped squarely into another costumer.

"Oomph! Sorry, sir." Harry apologized, adjusting the hood of his sweatshirt as it slipped.

"Quite…quite all right," responded the man kindly. Up close, Harry saw that his robes were even shabbier and more patched than Mr. Weasley's, and he looked like he was in need of a good meal, and a long nap. He handed the picture book to Harry. "_The House That Jack Built_, interesting choice. I don't believe I've ever read it before."

"Yes it's new," admitted the shopkeeper, whom the man had clearly been conversing with before Harry had appeared. "Part of a set we're stocking for the new unit in Muggle Studies. Children's literature, nursery rhymes you know?"

"This is the house, and the hound, and the horn, that belonged to the farmer sowing his corn, that kept the cock that crowed in the morn, that waked the priest all shaven and shorn, that married the man all tattered and torn, that kissed the maiden all forlorn, that milked the cow with the crumpled horn, that tossed the dog, that worried the cat, that chased the rat, that ate the cheese that lay in the house that Jack built," recited Harry from memory. It was one of his favorites.

"That's some memory you've got," the man laughed. "Are you Muggle-born?"

"Er…"

"Yeah, he is," came Charlie Weasley's voice from behind Harry. " This is Brock Crabtree," he lied quickly. "A kid from Ottery St. Catchpole who just showed magic. Mum offered to show him around Diagon. It's nice to see you again, Mr. Lupin."

"And you, Charlie, but I've told you that you could call me Remus. I used to babysit you, you know?"

"I remember, you and the rest of the Marauders. I've got some twin brothers you would probably like to meet. They're only eight, and already they're experts at driving Mum round the twist."

Remus laughed. "They sound like two lads I'd be interesting in meeting. And it was very nice to meet you. Brock, wasn't it?"

Out of the corner of his eye Harry saw Charlie incline his head slightly, so he nodded.

"One copy of The House That Jack Built for Brock here, please?" Remus placed the required three Sickles on the counter.

"Y—you don't have to do that," said Harry, looking slightly alarmed.

"Please, allow me. A little 'Welcome to the Wizarding World' present. And how is your mother?" Remus inquired of Charlie. "I'd like to catch up with her."

"She's right over there," Charlie pointed. "Gilderoy Lockhart has a new book out, and between you and me, she fancies him."

"Ah," Remus chuckled.

"And as for you, short stuff, have you ever seen a book with nothing in it?"

Remus watched Charlie lead his cub away. Shaking himself, as though from a stupor, he went to tap the redheaded woman on the shoulder. "Hello, Molly."

"Remus? Remus Lupin? It's been way too long."

"It really has. I wonder if we could catch up? Outside, maybe?"

"Yes, yes of course. Let's find someplace private."

Molly signaled for her eldest son to watch Harry, and followed Remus to an empty table outside Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor. Once they were seated, Remus erected a privacy bubble, and a Silencing Charm, so that there was no chance the two would be overheard.

"I take it you recognized Harry?" the woman sighed.

"Only after he bumped into me, and his hood slipped. I appreciate the reason you have him disguised, but I'm sure no one else saw, and you know that _I_ would never hurt Harry, Molly."

"You're not the one I'm worried about." And she told him the story of how Arthur had found Harry only that morning.

"Those bastards!" Remus cursed. "What did the Muggles do to him?"

"Harry hasn't admitted to anything, but Arthur met the man while he was in the midst of intimidating his nephew. If the boys hadn't gotten Harry out of there, I shudder to think what might have happened."

Remus put his face in his hands. "Oh, dear Merlin! I told Dumbledore this would happen. Petunia Dursley cut all ties with her sister the day Lily got her Hogwarts letter. I know she would never love the son of a sister she considered a—"

"Freak," Molly supplied. "Yes, that's how Harry sees himself."

"I'd like to see him."

"Of course, you may."

"Thank you, Molly. I know…I know I can't take care of Harry, I'd be dangerous to him, but still—"

"I'm serving dinner's at six-thirty. Come early, so you can meet Harry."

Remus Lupin was thrilled by his mere proximity of the house where his best friend's son was staying. It was almost surreal. Even more surreal was the sight of said child shielding himself from behind Molly Weasley's leg as she led him out into the garden. "Harry, would you like to say hi our guest? He came to see you." "You're the man from the bookshop." Harry whispered shyly.

"I am," Remus admitted. "I'm so happy to see you again."

"Why do you want to see _me_?"

"Because you seem like a sweet little boy, and I'd like to get to know you, Harry."

"You know my name?" Harry asked astonished. "My _real_ name."

Remus knelt in front of the boy. "I was in the maternity ward when you were born. My name is Remus Lupin, and your father was one of my dearest friends."

"You knew my daddy?"

"I did, and your mummy as well."

"Will you tell me stories about them?"

"I'll tell you anything you want to know, Harry."

"What were their names?"

"Their names?" Remus repeated.

Harry nodded.

"Their names were Lily Jasmine Evans and James Charlus Potter. A funny name I know," he remarked because Harry looked to be fighting a giggle. "It was your grandfather's."

"Harry?" spoke Arthur softly. "How would you like to go live at Remus's house?"

For a beat, Harry was silent. Then he began to wail dreadfully. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

"Whatever for, dear?" Mrs. Weasley inquired, flabbergasted.

"I was bad, and now you wanna to send me away, You wanna send me back to the Dursleys s'cause you don't like me anymore!"

"Oh, Harry," Molly cried, pulling the boy into a crushing hug that (Remus noticed) only made him stiffen. "You did nothing that was bad, and we like you very much. You could visit and play with the boys any time you like, but—"

"But you already have children," Harry supplied tearfully. "Of your own."

Molly didn't know how to respond to that. It was true, that finding the money to raise an eighth child would be very difficult. "No, darling, that's not it. Your parents would've liked very much for Remus to raise you if they couldn't. They would trust him to kiss your scrapes, and tuck you in at night. He can tell you the most wonderful stories about them, and show you pictures as well. "

"Would you…would you like that, Harry?" Remus stammered. "Living with me?"

"Okay."

"Why don't you get your storybook, so you can go with Remus as soon as supper's over?" Arthur instructed gently. "And tell everyone else it's time to come down, please."

Looking back at Remus, as though to make sure he wasn't going to disappear, Harry went into the house.

Once Harry was out of earshot, Remus turned on his companions. "Are the two of you out of your minds?" he hissed angrily. "We all know I'm not legally allowed to be Harry's guardian, it's too dangerous. _I'm_ too dangerous, and now we've gotten his hopes up!"

"Not for nothing," Arthur assured him. "I stopped by the Ministry this afternoon, and spoke to Amelia Bones. Do you know her?"

"I vaguely remember the name."

"She several years below me in Hogwarts, and is the newly promoted Head of the DMLE," Arthur elaborated. "She says Harry's is something of a peculiar case. Lily and James made Chains of Guardianship in their wills, as was the custom during the war. The Longbottoms and Black are…indisposed, and Peter is dead. There is no way we can send Harry back to those abusive Muggles. You're the only left. Molly and I are willing to take charge of Harry during the full moons. He belongs with _you_, Remus."

"He belongs with Lily and James, but I'll have to do," Remus replied, as Harry reentered the garden with the rest of Weasley in tow,

His emerald eyes widened as he registered Remus's continued presence. "Yes, Harry, I'm still here. Now let's eat dinner, so we can get you get settled in our new home."

Harry grinned. Our new home. That sounded very good indeed.


	4. Scars Unseen

**Chapter Four Scars Unseen**

**Authors note**

**This is the first chapter of our story written by dictation, hopefully all the time saved not typing will allow me to get chapters out faster.**

**So sorry for the wait, I hope you enjoy!**

While they were eating, Remus noted that Harry seemed absolutely baffled—not by the amount of food on the plates of the Weasley boys, as Remus was—but by the fact that Molly piled his own plate with second and third helpings. Not only that, but Harry seemed to think he needed permission to eat, and had had to receive it no less than four times before he believed the adults.

After dinner, Molly led Remus and Harry into the kitchen, where the Floo connection had been set up, and Remus knelt down in front of Harry.

"Harry, I'm going to pick you up now, if that's okay with you."

Harry shrugged. He knew better than to refuse a grown-up, even if that grown-up was not Aunt Petunia, or Uncle Vernon.

"Here, let me help you, since you seem to have your hands full," offered Arthur, grabbing a pinch of powder, and throwing it into the flames.

Harry's eyes widened as the flames turned green. "It's all right," Remus promised. "I know it's strange, but the fire won't hurt you. This may feel a little funny, so hold on tight to me."

"Lupin Cottage, Berkshire!" Remus called out, stepping into the Weasley's fireplace.

And they were spinning at a dizzying speed… being squeezed from al sides, as if going down the drain.

**Flashback**

_Petunia Dursley ran a cloth as rough as sandpaper over her nephew's already raw backside. _

"_Shut up, you useless brat, or. I'll give you something to cry about!" Petunia frightened. "If you hadn't been sitting in your soil for three days this wouldn't be happening," she added, conveniently forgetting – as was her custom – that the only reason her three-year-old nephew was not potty trained was because she had been too busy spying on the comings and goings of Mr. Number Five's mistress to train him._

_"Oh! It's everywhere you dirty freak," she wailed. "As if I had time to give you a bath!"_

_Petunia dug her nails into the little boy sides, plopping him none to too gently into the claw-foot tub, which was already filling with scalding water._

_"Don't you move," Petunia ordered, as if Harry could go anywhere, and she went to the linen closet to obtain shower gel, grumbling all the way._

_Reveling in the few precious seconds when there is and is not belittling him, Harry looked up in surprise at the sound of heavy footfalls. It was his cousin Dudley Dursley, dragging a footstool to the edge of the tub, with a great deal of effort. (Probably because he was not used to exerting so much energy.)_

_"Wanna see if you'll drown?" He asked, pointing to the chain of the tub's plug._

_Harry shook his head empathetically "Uh-uh."_

_Dudley laughed mainly as he pulled the plug, and then grabbed a hank of his younger cousin's hair, and pushed down… Hard_

**End Flashback**

"Harry?" Remus whispered, as he stepped out of his own fireplace, and became aware of the five-year-old shaking in his arms. "Harry, what's the matter?"

The matter was that Harry _did not_ want to travel by fireplace again, but he didn't dare say this to Remus.

"Come on, cub," Remus wheedled. "You can tell me. You can tell me anything."

"Cub?" Harry repeated, looking somewhere over the man's shoulder.

"Yeah," replied Remus, realizing with a disheartened feeling, that Harry may not appreciate the moniker with which Remus had always privately addressed the boy he considered a nephew since Harry was an infant. "I thought it could be your nickname, my special name for you. If you like, that is."

"I like it lots, sir."

"Good," Remus smiled. "But you don't have to call me sir, Harry. Like I told you before, my name is Remus, or you can call me Moony if you want to, because that was my nickname in school."

"Why?

Remus paused, he didn't want to like to Harry, but he was just so young, and the werewolves in Muggle stories… not that Remus imagined Petunia or Vernon Dursley would ever be first in line to read their nephew bedtime story. "Well, it's a bit of a long story, and I shouldn't tell you just now"

"Oh."

Harry did not mention that Remus had promised to tell him anything he wanted to know, because Harry was used to promises made to him by grown-ups being broken, and that was by the grown-ups who even bothered making promises at all, and Harry could easily count _those_ on one hand

That dejected tone in voice made Remus backtrack slightly. "Not until you're older, Harry, that's all I meant. I didn't mean never. It's just that… well, I was kind of a naughty boy in school."

"That's okay, I'm a naughty boy too."

Remus tried hard to stop the ferocious hate his wolf had for the Dursleys from bubbling over, so that the resulting growl wouldn't scare Harry, whose trust in him – if it could even be called trust at this stage – was fragile. In fact, the struggle to keep his voice light was one of the hardest of his life, but he hoped his veneer passed for cheerful, he said

"Oh now, I don't believe that for a second." Remus walked through the house to his own bedroom, and set Harry down on the full-size bed, shocked at exactly how light he was. He was quite sure if you took off Harry's shirt, he could count all of his ribs

"Uh -huh," Harry insisted, with a stubbornness that was distinctly reminiscent of his mother, so much so, that it made Remus's heart constrict with sadness. "Last week I turned the teacher's hair blue!"

This confession was apparently so shameful that Harry looked down into his lap.

Remus had to hold back his laughter, because Harry did seem to find this very funny. In fact, he seemed quite fearful of Remus's reaction to the news. "Harry, please look at me."

Under the influence it the direct order – almost like a house-elf – Harry did as he was told… and a strange feeling began to undertake the small child.

Looking directly into Remus's amber eyes, Harry felt a sense of warmth spread from the pit of his stomach, a sense of comfort that was quite foreign to him. Somehow, he knew this new man –Remus – would never hurt him, and this newfound sense of trust propelled him to speak up, as he never would've done before. First rule at the Dursley house: Never ask questions!

"You mean, that you're not mad at me? You don't think that I did a naughty thing? You won't… But this is where Harry's sudden burst of courage failed him.

Remus sensed he had struck a chord. "What, Harry?" he asked, with immense trepidation concerning what he may find out. "I won't_ what_?"

"You won't… you won't hit me?"

Remus's astonishment at this particular question was second only to his fury towards the Dursleys for ever considering harming the child he considered the last living member of his pack. "_Hit you?_" Harry started, and Remus was quick to soften his tone. "What do you mean 'hit you', cub? I— I don't understand."

"You know… take off your belt and –"

"Merlin's lacy nightgown, I would never hit you, Harry."

"Never ever?" It was Harry's turn to be surprised.

"Not even if I was hopping, boiling, mad. Not even if you were the most naughty boy alive, a title you will never hold. I assure you. Now, that that's settled, will you tell old Moony what the matter is?"

The child seemed shocked into silence. "You don't have to tell me now, you don't have to have to say anything about anything until you're ready. Then again, if I know what the matter is, maybe I can fix it."

Harry opened his mouth answer, and expelled the contents of his very large supper all over his front, and the duvet.

Remus was remarkably unfazed. "A bit too much of a good thing, eh?"

Harry stared, thoroughly horrified that he had created the puddle of sick before him. He started to cry. "I'm sorry… I – I didn't mean to… I…"

"Shhh, Harry, shhh, cub, it's all right. I know you didn't mean it. I know it was an accident, and one that I can fix up straightaway. Up you come, cub."

Remus lifted him once more ignoring the transfer of vomit, and carried him into the bathroom.

"And anyway, I'm the one who should be sorry," he said with a wink. "You'll have to deal with my cooking from now on, and it's not nearly as good as Mrs. Weasley's."

The ploy to divert Harry's attention worked, because he lifted his head, and began to examine his new surrounding. His eyes settled on the tub with distaste.

Remus placed Harry on the closed toilet seat, and began to unlace his peeling trainers. "Yeah, you're getting a bath. I know it doesn't look very appealing right now, but soon we can get you some toys and bubbles. How does that sound?"

Harry began to shake once again, as if he were experiencing a seizure, or something. "No."

_What did the bathroom and the front room have in common? _Remus wondered, _besides the fact that they most both seemed to produce this reaction from Harry."_

"No to the toys, or no to the bubbles?" he asked gently.

"No bath… I'll be a good boy!"

Remus covered his confusion with the ease of a Marauder, and offered a smile for Harry. "Of course you're a good boy, and right now, you're also a messy boy who needs to get cleaned up. You'll feel better, I promise."

Harry wanted to feel better, and it felt strange to be defying anyone for the first time in his life but still a deeper fear claimed him, one born of that horrible day almost three years ago, and he shook his head.

Remus was utterly perplexed now. "Well, the least we can do is get you out of these clothes," he said firmly. "They're too big for you, anyway, and we'll have to get you a new wardrobe."

Secretly, Remus did not know how this would be accomplished, with his meager life savings. According to Arthur, Remus would eventually receive a waiver from Amelia Bones that stated he—though a werewolf—had permission to be Harry's guardian. He would then present the waiver to Argok, the Head Goblin of Gringotts and trustee of the Potter estate, and would be allowed to access the money that now belonged to his charge. Remus had refused charity from his friend when James was alive, and felt even stranger doing so after his death, but how else was he to take care of Harry?

The thought of Harry brought Remus back to present, and he gently lifted the boy's shirt and blanched at the sight.

Harry's torso and back were purple with half-healed bruises, and red with infected welts. The Dursleys were cunning enough to leave marks where no one would see them,

With many soothing words, and sincere apologies, Remus compromised Harry's apparent fear of water, by gently cleaning his wounds with a wet cloth. This would not do for long, though, and soon Remus knew healing spells and salves that were beyond his considerable skill for everyday injuries would need to be applied. But not tonight, for Harry was falling asleep where he sat.

"Come on, little one, time for bed," Remus whispered, draping him in a towel. "It's late, and you're tired."

Harry was tired, and so he did not protest, but wrapped his arms around Remus's neck instead.

The guest room of Lupin cottage was small—but it would do, Remus decided—once outfitted to fit Harry's tastes.

He Transfigured some of his own pajamas to fit Harry, and tucked the boy in, with a kiss on the forehead, which he vowed would not be foreign to the boy for much longer at all.

At least this eventual day was over, but Remus knew better than to wish it weren't so. After all, yesterday he was alone in the world, and today—due to a chance encounter with the Weasley family, Remus had his little nephew back.

Then again, Remus knew he would be a fool to believe that this would be the easiest step.


	5. His Life Could Depend On It

**See, quicker chapters. Two chapters in one week would be unheard of if I were typing. Thank you to those to reviewed the story/favorited or alerted either me, or the story. Thank you also to ****Sakura Lisel,****silvanu5****, JenniferRSong, Addicted2snickers, ****and** **hpfananita ****who have added **_**There For You **_**to their communities. Those are all the acknowledgments for this chapter; so without further ado, HAPPY NEW YEAR to all, and to all, please review. **

Chapter Five: His Life Could Depend On It

Remus was up at a bright and early hour that most would consider inhuman, but this was nothing new. After all, from the fifth-year pre-O.W.L binges on, it was he and Peter who had the job of sobering James and…and Black up, before classes began and the professors could take points from Gryffindor. Since then, it had become something of habit, except on the days immediately before and after the full moon.

He tiptoed into the kitchen, careful not to wake Harry, and prepared himself a quick bowl of fruit, and slice of toast.

Just as the sky was tinged pink with the rising sun, Remus heard the tap of the _Daily Prophet_ owl at the window, and got up to retrieve the paper.

The front page contained an editorial. This was intriguing, because it didn't usually happen unless it was on a controversial topic that the mercenary editor thought would sell papers. This one—Remus realized quickly—was sure to fit that bill.

It was from an irate fellow werewolf protesting the motion put forth by "some upstart Ministry hag" for tighter restrictions on the employment of those the motion termed "werewolves, giants, and other such mongrels."

Remus knew that the sympathy and opposition the werewolf was hoping to garner were not likely, but controversy was controversy. To him all these new restrictions meant, was that if they passed it would be even harder for him to find a decent job. He would most likely have to look in the Muggle, which had difficulties of its own, since his employers often wondered where he disappeared to for three days every month.

"Damn!" he yelled, surprising even himself, as he was not in the habit of cursing.

He heard the hallway floorboards creak as tiny feet ran across them.

"Y– you're up," Harry stuttered.

"I am, but I didn't mean to wake you. It's far too early for little cubs to be up."

"But I've gotta cook. I guess I was s'posed to be up earlier, but I didn't know when you'd want breakfast, or want you liked to eat," Harry replied.

"Harry, you don't need to cook for me."

"I cooked for the Dursleys all the time. I make real good bacon. Bacon is Dudley's favorite. Do you like bacon, Remus?"

The wolf inside of him gave Remus a carnivorous preference, so it was no surprise that the very thought of bacon made him almost salivate. Yet, he wanted to have absolutely nothing in common with the Dursley boy, and furthermore, the idea of Harry burning himself with sizzling bacon fat was repulsive. "Harry, you're five," he pointed out gently.

"Almost six," said Harry, sticking out his upper lip indignantly, but a look in Remus's kind eyes assured Harry that he meant no harm. Rather, he seemed genuinely worried. "I'll be six soon."

This was not to say that the Dursleys had ever made much of his birthdays. In fact, they completely ignored them, but Mrs. Figg had once told Harry that his birthday was on the last day of July.

Thinking of Mrs. Figg, he was very glad she would no longer babysit him. At least, he assumed that to be the case, not that he was with Remus. It was not that she had ever truly been mean to him, she practically ignored him unless it was absolutely necessary that she pay attention, which he frankly preferred when contrasted with the outright hatred of the Dursleys and Aunt Marge. Still, Mrs. Figg had too many cats, and her house smelled like it. It smelled like cats, and cabbage, and old people.

He couldn't pinpoint what Remus's house smelled like yet, but he knew he liked it, and he resolved to be good enough that Remus would let him stay long enough to find out.

Remus's eyes crinkled in self-deprecating good humor. "Of course you will be, silly me. But even six-year-olds—old men that they are—won't be cooking in this house, not matter what they did at the Dursleys. And they shouldn't be up until at least seven, or else they won't get enough sleep to grow taller. And we can't have you ending up scrawny like—I mean you want to grow taller, don't you?"

Remus knew he would have to check any tongue-in-cheek references to James, until Harry had grown better accustomed to him, and his dry sense of humor.

"As tall as you are?"

"Maybe," Remus chuckled.

"I guess so," Harry acquiesced, "but I'm not tired."

"Well, why don't we go into your room, and I can read to you until you drift off again."

Remus had an ulterior motive for this. He was hoping to get Harry tired enough, to circumvent his what Arthur warned him was a severe distrust of magic, and get him Healed. Harry, it seemed had other plans.

"I had a dream about that puppy last night," Harry informed him, pointing to a picture in _The House That Jack Built. _"I was riding on his back, but I've never seen him before when I was awake."

Remus paused, trying to figure out how to frame this without quashing Harry's overall curiosity that was only just beginning to emerge.

"Actually, it may have been a memory," he hedged. "You're mummy and daddy…they had a big black dog like the one in the picture when you were little. "

"Did Mummy like animals? Aunt Petunia didn't like them at all."

"You mummy and your aunt were very different, Harry. Lily liked animals. This particular dog was very slobbery, so Lily used to tease him about that, but she was very fond of him."

"What was his name?"

This conversation was getting a little too deep, but Remus couldn't think of a good enough reason not to answer. "His name was Padfoot, and if you go back to sleep, I bet you'll dream of him again."

"Okay," Harry sighed, snuggling further down into the covers.

It took another ten minutes for Harry to truly fall asleep, but once that crisis was averted, Remus quickly produced a Patronus.

"_Poppy, my abject apologies for the early hour, but you must Floo 'Lupin Cottage, Berkshire' immediately. Extremely urgent, Remus Lupin." _

The silver wolf hurried away with the message.

Shortly thereafter, the fireplace in the den flared, casting a faint green glow onto Harry's face by means of his open bedroom door.

The child stirred, and murmured in his sleep.

"Shhh, little one," Remus soothed, and Harry settled slightly, at least enough so that Remus could tiptoe into the den to meet the matron, whom he greeted in a whisper.

"Remus Lupin, it's six in the morning," Pomfrey scolded

"And yet, you look remarkably bright-eyed." He observed that she had already forgone her tartan nightdress for Healer's robes.

"Habit, I suppose. That fool of a Hufflepuff captain who just graduated often decided it was a bright idea to have Quidditch practice at dawn, usually with disastrous results. Last time for instance, a very tired Chaser—who even in her waking hours is the clumsiest girl you've ever seen—attempted to swerve to avoid a Bludger, and ended up engineering a mass collision."

"Oh, my."

"The headmaster brought them in himself. Thank goodness he was on his morning constitutional."

"Speaking of the headmaster, I'd appreciate if this little meeting stayed between us."

Madame Pomfrey nodded. "You, more than anyone, know that I practice Healer-patient confidentiality."

"I do, and I've never been more grateful for it in my life, since I hold Dumbledore partially, if indirectly responsible for what happened here." He led her into the open bedroom.

"Dear sweet Merlin!" the matron cried. "Is that who I think it is?"

"It is." Remus confirmed. "Harry was…er _appropriated _from his relatives yesterday."

"By you?" Pomfrey asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

"By good Samaritans. I came across them by chance, and Harry came into my care by our mutual agreement."

"And are you purposefully keeping these 'good Samaritans' anonymous."

"I think that's best for now, since their actions would likely be frowned upon by people in high places—Dumbledore particularly. Harry is not safe with his relatives, and even under Cruciatus, I wouldn't let him be taken back there!"

Taking a beat to compose herself, Pomfrey schooled her face into a mask of trained detachment. "What on earth ails him?"

"The Muggles Dumbledore left Harry with abused him beyond the scope of my Healing capabilities. That's why he can't know I have Harry under any circumstances, until all the formalities of guardianship are observed, and not even Dumbledore can take Harry away from me. That time hasn't come."

"Yes, yes, I understand. Let me run a diagnostic spell, so I know what I'm dealing with."

She waved her wand, bathing Harry in light of a soft blue color, at which Harry failed to twitch this time. Strange, Remus thought. Just another thing about Harry that was very strange.

The list that enumerated Harry's various injuries grew steadily longer, and Pomfrey muttered to herself as each new one appeared.

"Well?" Remus prompted.

"Severely malnourished, certainly."

"We had dinner at the Weasleys last night, and he couldn't keep it down," Remus reported.

"That's to be expected. I've healed those of his lacerations that aren't infected; he'll need salve for the ones that are. I have that in my bag, He also appears to have broken bones that have healed improperly. No internal injuries, that's a small mercy. Oh!"

Pomfrey startled as one final thing wrote itself on the parchment.

"Careful," Remus cautioned. "The lousy Muggles taught Harry to mistrust magic, and you'll scare him if he wakes up to see you waving a wand around."

"He better learn to trust it, and quickly! You must teach him to trust magic and to control his own."

"Is his core extra powerful?" Remus questioned. "He did some amazing accidental magic as a baby."

"Has he shown any since you've had him?"

"Not that I've seen, no."

"That pretty much confirms my diagnosis, than. Harry has Empathy. It is very rare, but more commonly seen in abused children. Once Empathy is employed, the more ostentatious shows of accidental magic usually go away, except in times of extreme stress, because it's very draining in and of itself."

"What does it mean?"

"The theory is that Empathy is a way for the magic of an abused child to protect them. An Empath can sense the emotions of others, and pattern his or her behavior accordingly."

"So Harry warmed to me rather more quickly than I anticipated because he sensed I wouldn't hurt him," Remus guessed.

"Correct. An Empath's intuition can usually be trusted, but in one so young, it needs to be trained. Someone with enough skill can easily manipulate any type of magic that is based on emotion. Luckily, as I said, it's extremely rare, so not many know about it. I've only known of one other case myself, and that was Sev…I mean in the seventies. Anyway, I highly recommend you read up on the topic further, so that you'll be able to teach Harry the discipline he is going to need. In this situation especially his life could depend on it."

Several minutes after Pomfrey showed herself back to the Floo, Remus sat at Harry's bedside, the matron's words echoing in his mind.

_His life could depend on it…_ _His life could depend on it…depend on it._

After what seemed to be only a few minutes, but was in reality much longer, Harry came awake once more.

"Is it seven yet?"

Remus looked at the sun outside Harry's window. "As a matter of fact, it's _seven-thirty_, and we need to get going, because I have a full day planned."


	6. Come Fly With Me

**Shocking though it is, this story is not abandoned! In fact, I updated! What can I say, my darling readers? Even my dictation device has to occasionally be used for school assignments. Unfortunately my lovely fiction fell victim to a very hectic semester. Boo. Thanks a billion to Fariedragon, LuckyCat1, Lupinesence, P-Webes, Ravenna nightxxx,****Cassandra30,**

**Harry Albus Potter Dumbledore, ****Elizaveta Hedervary****, ****Zabuza's Girl, and**

**Chibi Blue Mouse for reviewing.**

Chapter Six Come Fly With Me

Harry sat up in the bed, his face alight "What are we going to do today, Moony."

_You must teach to trust magic…_Pomfrey's voice echoed in his head.

"It's a surprise," Remus replied. _For both of us, I assure you. "_How are you feeling today, Harry?"

"Much better," Harry said, noticing with belated surprise that his back didn't hurt quite so badly as it had when he sat up as it had on previous mornings.

"I'm glad to hear it!" Remus grinned. "I had a friend of mine named Madame Pomfrey come over to give you a check-up while you were sleeping, and she did what she could to make you feel better."

"Like a doctor?"

"Yeah, like a doctor. Wizards call them Healers, but it's pretty much the same thing. My Grandpa Lupin was one. Have you ever been to the doctor, Harry?"

"I saw the school nurse at St. Gregory's a couple of times, and once…"

"Once what?" Remus prompted.

"Once she called Aunt Petunia to come and get me, 'cause I was sick."

"And what did your aunt do?"

Harry hesitated. "You're gonna get mad," he whispered.

"I solemnly swear I won't get mad," Remus pledged, even though he had yet to teach Harry what that meant.

"She…she just put me in my cupboard, and went back to spying on the neighbors."

_Yes, that sounded like the stories of Petunia that Remus had heard from Lily. _His mouth thinned.

"You said you wouldn't be mad, but you are," fretted Harry. "You look mean."

Remus quickly schooled his face. "I'm sorry, cub. Maybe I am a little mad, but I'm mad at your Aunt Petunia, not at you."

Harry nodded. Then he spotted a goblet, and vial that Remus had placed on his bedside table. "What's that?"

"Poti—er, medicine that Madame Pomfrey left for you. I mixed it in pumpkin juice to make it taste better.'

"I've never had pumpkin juice."

"It's not a Muggle world drink, but I think you'll like it. It's sweet, which is good, because sugar makes this kind of medicine useless. Pity, really. You're going to have three drinks and two small meals, until your belly gets back to its normal size. The vial is a salve that I'm supposed to put on you every morning, "

"Will it sting?" Harry whispered.

"It might," Remus admitted, "but I'll try my not to hurt you. Tell me when you're ready"

Harry braced himself, and nodded.

Remus was slightly frightened by Harry's high level of pain tolerance. Where most children would have cried out in protest at the first touch of salve, Harry merely clenched his teeth, and said nothing.

As his own mother had in his post-Greyback youth, Remus tried to mitigate Harry's discomfort as best as he could, by telling a story to take the child's mind off of the situation.

Remus told Harry about the time he was seven and was sick with a cold. Having been informed, John had arrived to see that Hope Lupin had already administered Pepper-Up Potion, as evidenced by the fact that his grandson's ears were still smoking slightly. Furthermore little Remus was in a tremendous sulk.

John had kindly ushered his flustered daughter-in-law out of the bedroom, requesting a consultation with the patient, whereupon Remus was told to get out of bed, and stand on his head, Healer's orders. That having been accomplished, John had proceeded to render a rather overdramatic rendition of a folk song about a wizard who had forgotten his wand, and had proceeded to go camping the Muggle way with humorous consequences.

The end result of the whole affair, Remus concluded, was that he never did figure out whether his change in mood was due to the song lyrics, or the sudden reversal of gravity.

"I wonder if I can still stand on my head, now that I'm an old man. We'll have to see some time." He winked mischievously as he finished applying the salve. "There now, all finished. What a brave boy you are, Harry."

"Thank you." The child beamed under the genuine phrase.

"What do you want to wear? I suggest you pick something comfortable to you I like about and something you don't mind getting dirty, because we may be out for a long time."

"Dudley's old clothes on my chore clothes, but they are too big for me, like you said." Harry looked at his duvet-covered lap, clearly thinking he had said too much.

_Who said anything about chores_? Remus wondered. _Was that the only time the Dursleys ever let Harry outside… to do chores_?

Remus didn't want to push him, but he doubted Harry would bring this up again, so he had to ask: "Harry, what kind of chores did your aunt uncle have you do? Besides cooking, I mean, and I'd really like it if you can be honest with me."

"Cleaning, cooking and gardening," Harry answered, "but only in the back garden, so the neighbors didn't see me. Auntie didn't want me talking to the neighbors."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm a freak and I scare them."`

Remus grabbed Harry's hand in both of his own, making sure that his voice was comforting, but not accusatory. "Harry James, I want you to listen to me. You are not, nor have you ever been a freak, okay? I'm not telling you this because you're in trouble. I'm trying to make you understand something. I don't think of you as a freak, and I don't want to hear you call yourself 'freak' again. All right?"

"Okay, Remus."

"Good lad. I want you to close your eyes, and think of six nice things to say about yourself."

While Harry was thus distracted, Remus Transformed his pajamas, into a black T-shirt, and a faded pair of jeans.

"What was that?" Harry inquired, his eyes still closed.

_He can sense magic? _Remus thought in awe. That required immense power and was unheard of—as far as Remus knew—sense the death of Merlin. Perhaps Dumbledore could do it, but Remus had never asked, and was certainly not inclined to do so now.

"That was magic, Harry. I just changed you out of your pajamas. Do you this outfit?"

"I can open my eyes now?" Harry inquired, still used to asking permission for everything.

"Yes, of course you can. Do you like the outfit?"

Harry studied his attire with a judicious eye, and then nodded.

Now, I need you to go wait by the door while I get dressed, and then we'll go out."

Harry nodded, and went off humming to himself quietly. He was excited to be going out for the second time in as many days.

Remus smiled, as he fiddled with the safe in his closet, and withdrew a handful of Muggle bills, the last of his savings from a short-lived job at a Muggle bookstore in Devon.

The first order of business was to get Harry a wardrobe that actually fit him, and some books and toys to amuse him. Furniture would be too conspicuous to buy, so Remus would conjure it later. They would have to shop in London, of course. The very fact that Harry was there with him showed Remus just how easily Harry could be recognized in Diagon Alley. Remus wished he only had disenfranchised Death Eaters to worry about, but unfortunately that was not that case. He was still smarting over being disillusioned about Dumbledore, and since werewolves had no legal rights, Remus could not take the headmaster to court on Harry's behalf.

Sighing, Remus pasted a smile on his face for Harry's benefit.

The first portion of the outing took longer than anticipated, because – as it turned out – two sets of a full wardrobe constituted an inordinate amount of clothing.

"Do I really need all these clothes?" Harry whispered in astonishment.

"You plan on playing outside sometimes, don't you?" Remus grinned.

Harry shrugged, and Remus counted that as a victory. He turned to the young clerk. "This will be all, thanks. Do you happen to know of a bookstore near here? I don't this one walking for too much longer, or he just might fall asleep on me."

"Will not," protested Harry, making the clerk smile.

"I think you're dad's just teasing you, kid. Anyway, there's a store about a block over that sells books and toys, and across the way, there's a diner. Burgers, fries, fizzy drinks, kid-friendly stuff."

0o0o0o

"Why are you sad?" ask Harry, as he picked at his child-sized meal.

"_Curse your Empath instincts_," thought Remus. He thought he had been hiding it well. Aloud he said, "How can I possibly be sad when I have my little Harry back with me?"

"Is it 'cause that lady called you my daddy?"

"Not exactly," Remus replied. He sipped his chocolate milkshake, as he contemplated how best to explain this to a five-year-old. "Or maybe… I don't know. I guess when she said that; it made me miss your daddy very much. I can never be a better daddy that James was to you. Your daddy loved you so much, Harry. He still does, only now he and Mummy love you from Heaven."

"I know," assured Harry, squeezing the two stuffed deer on his lap, He had immediately run to their display at the bookstore. The animals had come with a Muggle book, and although they apparently depicted the characters Bambi and Faline, Remus was privately referring to them as Prongs and Lily. Ironically enough, their noses had been magnetized, so that it seemed they were kissing.

"Remus?"

"Yeah, Harry."

"You're already a better daddy than Uncle Vernon."

_I should bloody well hope so. _"Why is that, Harry?"

"My teacher said daddies are s'posed to give you hugs and kisses. Uncle Vernon says that's sissy stuff, but you kissed me goodnight last night."

"Last night and every night," Remus promised, hugging Harry. "Eat up, little one. We've got to catch the underground home, and, sadly, I don't think they allow chips on the train."

Remus had discovered that morning that the very excited Harry had never rode the Underground before. Unfortunately, he was very tired this time around and only made it through the first three stops, before nodding off against Remus's shoulder.

Shouldering open the cottage door, Remus deposited boy and animals on the bed and went to make a fire call.

The interior of Gringotts Wizarding Bank materialized before him as stuck his head in the flames.

A goblet in a scarlet uniform came toward the grate. "Yes, what is it you want?"

"Sir Goblin, may your gold ever multiply and your enemies tremble in terror," said Remus respectfully, undeterred by the curt manner. "I seek Head Goblin Argok, if you please?"

"I?" inquired the white-haired Argok, coming forward and dismissing the attendant.

Remus repeated the formality.

"Ah, Lupin," Argok greeted, with the closest approximation of a smile a goblin could be expected to manage. "So rare to experience manners from a wizard, but perhaps more fitting, coming from one of a similarly 'inferior race.'"

"Perhaps," Remus replied. Goblins didn't care what race you were, as long as they could manage your gold.

"I've been expecting you, Lupin."

"Then I trust you know of the waiver?"

"It was attended to this morning. Though I must say, I expected you to see to the matter in person, Lupin."

"I cannot leave my young charge, nor can I take him out in public. There are certain people who would not find Lord Potter's new living arrangements. He would be vulnerable. Is that a problem? I have heard that the French goblins are opening a Gringotts equivalent in their charming country, and I'm sure they would be quite pleased to offer their services to the House of Potter."

Argok's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Gringotts have serviced the House of Potter for centuries, Lupin! Are you, as House Regent, threatening to withdraw that business?"

_Jackpot._

Argok was not stupid; he had to know that losing the business of the richest family in Wizarding Britain to a rival would all but collapse Gringotts.

Remus inclined his head in quasi-apology. "Kindly hush, Head Goblin. The young Lord is napping. Your threat is a fancy. I merely wish to secure the cooperation and discretion of Gringotts in the matters of the House of Potter."

Argok's expression changed very quickly, "Naturally. Shall we run an audit of Lord Potter's assets?"

"If you would," Remus agreed. "Please contact me when you get results."

"Of course."

"One more question, Sir Goblin. Are there any mementos from Godric's Hollow in the Potter heirloom vault?"

"All was destroyed," answered the goblin, removing his head from the fire.

_Destroyed…James's first Quaffle, old and patched, Lily's precious Christmas ornaments, the toy broomstick Harry received for his first birthday…Destroyed_

_Broomstick…_that was it!

0o0o0o

"Are you ready for the next part of your surprise, Harry?" Remus asked, as he led the boy to the field in the back of Lupin Cottage. It was already warded against passing Muggles, on the off chance that the wolf broke out of the tool shed during the full moon. It was the perfect place for the next phase of Remus's plan.

"More?" Harry inquired, gripping Remus's hand in anticipation. He was already living with a man who had known his parents, and had given him clothes, toys, and books of his very own. He couldn't imagine anything else there could be!

"Yes, more," Remus chuckled. "Tell me, cub, what do say to a bit of a fly?"

"People can't _fly_!" replied Harry incredulously.

"Not regular people, no, but wizards can. Shall I show you?" Remus went to the broom shed, and removed his ancient Cleansweep Three. He mounted the broom, and kicked off so that he was hovering a slight distance among the boy.

"Watch this, Harry!" he called, performing a small loop-de-loop before touching down.

"That was wicked!" the child enthused.

Remus laughed. "Well, thank you, but I'm afraid I don't know many more tricks than that. Your daddy on the other hand…well, James was an excellent flyer. Absolutely brilliant! I'm sure he'd like it if I taught you how."  
>"I'd like that too." Harry agreed, "but I don't have a…broomstick."<p>

"Not a problem." Remus put his own broomstick on the ground, and aimed his wand. "Observe._ Geminio."_

Harry looked on positively wide-eyed, as a second, and identical Cleansweep Three materialized before him.

"Wow."

"That was a Doubling Charm," Remus explained, "a simple Shrinking Charm will make it Harry-sized, and a few extra charms to keep little boys from flying too high."

"But I wanna fly," Harry pouted. Remus smiled. Harry was finally starting to sound like a normal little boy. He was definitely James's son.

"And I want you to be safe," he replied gently. "So would Mummy and Daddy."

Harry subsided immediately. He wouldn't want to disappoint his Mummy and Daddy.

"First thing's first, Harry. I want you to stick out your right hand over your brooms, and say 'Up!'"

Harry complied, and the Cleansweep jumped right into his hand. Remus's heart skipped a beat in surprise.

"That was amazing, Harry, you're a natural! Now you have to learn to mount. I want you to straddle the broom—sit with one leg on each side. Grip it tightly with both hands, one over the other—" Remus demonstrated. "Very good, cub. Kick off, nice and gently. "

Harry did so, and began to hover about five feet from the ground. "I can do it! Lookie, Remus, look at me!"

"I see you, Harry," Remus assured him. The excited child was so like James that Remus had to blink away tears. "You're brilliant!"

"Come fly, Moony! Come up and race with me!" Harry begged. "Please, please, please?"

"All right, all right," Remus obliged, chuckling slightly, "but I'll have to teach you how to steer the broom first."

Almost two hours later, Remus and Harry had competed in three somewhat slow-motion races (one of which Harry actually won) and Remus had begun to teach Harry how to imitate the loop-de-loop. Then his little stomach began to growl.

"I think it's time for a landing lesson," Remus announced. "Tilt the broom downward, and touch down."

"Can we go up again tomorrow?" Harry wanted to know.

"We'll see, but I don't see why not."

"Moony?"

"Yes, Harry."

"I think I like magic."

**That's all folks. I would like to thank Anne B. Walsh who gave me permission to use Remus's Muggle bookstore profession from her Danger-verse stories. I always left a couple of other "Easter eggs" of my own for you to find. See if you can.**

**MMM**


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